From a Judge's Point of View
by Anymeansnecessay13
Summary: This is another story about what I think might have been going through Frollo's mind at the Feat of Fools...  Rated T for sexual themes.  Oneshot!


It was called the Festival of Fools. Perhaps it was given that name based on the people that were in attendance every year: the fools who made themselves look wretchedly ignorant by getting drunk. They got drunk and then tried to cause a commotion. The festival never came to an end without at least two injuries. So why did such things still carry on? Why did it not just become an extinct tradition?

Claude Frollo, the judge of Pairs, looked grimly out his window as the crew set up for the terrible event. They set up tents, balloons, food stands, beverage stands, and most importantly, the stage where the Pope of Fools would be crowned, and the entertainment would be provided. Frollo muttered to himself about the sinful practices as he made his way to the bell tower where an awaiting Quasimodo was.

He traveled up the winding staircases with the basket of bread hanging from his arm.

"Good morning Quasimodo." Frollo greeted him in a mundane tone.

"Good m-morning master…" Quasimodo cowered under the judge's gaze and retreated a few steps.

"My dear boy," Frollo said recalling how on his way up he heard Quasimodo speaking to someone. "Whomever are you talking to?"

Quasimodo's eyes darted to the three stone gargoyles for a moment. "My…friends…" He seemed to avert Frollo's look.

Frollo gently put his hand under Quasimodo's chin. "I see. And what are your friends made of Quasimodo?"

"Stone." Quasimodo stole another glance at his statue friends and suddenly felt very alone.

"Can stone _talk?"_

Quasimodo looked at Frollo sadly. "No it can't."

"That's right. You're a smart lad. Now, lunch." Frollo seated himself at the small wooden table in Quasimodo's humble abode, and gestured for him to retrieve the silverware.

Quasimodo faithfully did as his master motioned for, and placed the wooden objects at his place and the glass objects in Frollo's place.

"Shall we review your alphabet today?" Frollo asked as he poured the wine he had brought into the goblets.

"Oh, yes master. I would like that very much."

"Very well." Frollo opened the book that contained the information needed for this lesson and began asking Quasimodo the routine questions.

"A?"

"Abomination."

"B?"

"Blasphemy."

"C?"

"C-C-Contrition." Quasimodo's stutter only slightly annoyed Frollo, so he put up with it.

"D?"

"Damnation."

"E?"

"E_ternal _Damnation."

"Good," Frollo was pleased that the alphabet lessons were becoming something that Quasimodo had committed to memory. He picked up his goblet and before taking a sip of the wine he asked of the next letter. "F?"

"Festival." Quasimodo had said this word without a thought. It had just come out.

Frollo spit out the little liquid that had entered his mouth and coughed. "Excuse me?" He questioned after wiping his mouth.

"F-F-Forgiveness!" Quasimodo said in a rush, looking hopefully up at his master.

"You said _festival._" He snapped the book shut and stood up from his place.

"NO!" Quasimodo stood up as well.

"You're thinking about going to the festival." The very idea disgusted Frollo. Quasimodo, out there with the citizens of Paris at a time such as this…it was enough to make Frollo shudder. People would jeer and scorn him. They would only laugh and make him a humiliating derision. It would be nothing but torture for the poor boy. To Frollo, in a world such as the one they lived in, there was no lightness in the deformities that Quasimodo had. With his surplus of skin around his left eye, and his protruding hunchback, the world would be nothing but wicked to him.

"It's just that…_you _go every year…" Was Quasimodo really trying to argue this matter? Was he really trying to justify why he should be allowed to go? Well, no matter. Frollo was quick with a counteract.

"_I _am an elected official; I _must _go. But I don't en_joy _a _moment _of it!" He went on to tell Quasimodo of the disgrace that went on during the festival. It was nothing but ugliness.

"You are good to me master. I am sorry." Quasimodo folded his hands and bowed his head slightly in front of Frollo.

"You are forgiven. Just remember Quasimodo," he said, gesticulating toward the room. "_This _is your sanctuary." And with those words, he left the bell tower, having other errands to attend to.

Phoebus was his name. He was, as Frollo had been told, one of the best captains in his rank. He had been praised with such high regard from others that Frollo had heard, that he decided to employ him with a task he needed assistance with.

The gypsies. Just the shake of a tambourine brought Frollo anger. They were vermin. Vermin that needed to be eliminated from the streets of Paris at once. They were ensnaring the minds of the citizens of Paris with their exotic looks and odd sense of taste. They were con-artists who could trick onlookers of their performances to give them more money than they deserved. It was despicable.

Frollo was very determined to accomplish what he set out to do. But the carrying out of his plans would have to wait until a later time, for the sound of a trumpet alerted him that the time for the Festival of Fools had arrived.

"Have you ever attended a peasant festival?" Frollo inquired of Phoebus.

"Not recently, sir."

"Then this should be quite an education for you. Come along." Frollo led the way with a wry smirk upon his face.

In his carriage on his way to the main square, Frollo gazed at the floor. Why did he submit himself to such conditions? Why did he not just claim to have fallen ill?

_Because it would be a lie. _A tiny voice inside of his head reminded him. Frollo sighed and crossed himself. A Feast of Fools indeed.

Frollo arrived in the square and was ushered to his private chair. It was enclosed on both sides with some type of fabric, and the ceiling was as well. He sat down and watched the scene in front of him. One of the gypsies he recognized as Clopin. The head of the gypsies.

Frollo and his soldiers had been trying to capture this clever gypsy ever since Frollo had laid his eyes upon him. But he was sneaky one. And he always seemed to slip out of harms way. Him and the rest of his kind dwelled in a place they called, "The Court of Miracles". A place that Frollo could not seem to locate…

Frollo crossed his arms in frustration.

Clopin, seeing Frollo's obvious anger, leapt into his enclosed chamber and nudged his arm.

"…see they mystery and _romance…" _Frollo felt uncomfortable by this, but kept his face clean of any emotion except boredom.

"Come one! Come all! See the finest girl in France, make an entrance to entrance!" Clopin sang to the crowd.

For a moment Frollo was taken aback. The _finest _girl in France? He leaned forward, only a little, curious to see what girl Clopin was singing of. Surely she was a gypsy…

"Dance La Esmeralda…DANCE!" Clopin threw something on the stage and purple smoke was, for a moment, the only thing that could be seen.

But after a few seconds, the smoke cleared and La Esmeralda began dancing on the stage.

Frollo felt his face heat up with blush at the sight of her. She _was by far _the _finest girl in France. _She was beautiful. So exotically gorgeous. With raven hair that fell past her bare tan shoulders in an array of wild curls…with her curves…so voluptuous…so stimulating… With her ruby lips…with her emerald green eyes… Oh yes…she was the finest girl in France. The finest girl Frollo had ever seen _anywhere. _Her dress was not one of modesty. The very form-fitting, and revealing dress of scarlet and yellow grabbed Frollo's attention and made his loins ache with a fire that he thought he had long ago extinguished. He broke out in a cold sweat on the back of his neck.

Frollo found himself leaning in closer as if trying to let his eyes drink up as much of her as he possibly could. She was absolutely enthralling, and her thrall had caught the judge. He swallowed hard then, realizing what he was doing, and reluctantly tore his gaze away. He tried so frantically to hide any adulation he held for this girl. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever beheld. He looked towards his fingernails and muttered angrily at Phoebus, "Look at that _disgusting _display!"

"Yes sir!" Phoebus agreed happily adjusting his visor to get a better look.

What an auspicious fellow. He was free to look at her. He was free to fantasize about her in any way that he possibly wanted. They all were. All of the citizens that were in the audience were free to look at her. But Frollo was not. He was a pious man who feared God above all else. He was a judge of Paris who was respected because of his celibacy. Should he engage in _any _sort of misconduct, no matter how small, it would ruin him. He would lose his reputation. He would be no different than the licentious world that was below him.

He allowed himself to look at the dancing angel upon the stage once more.

She looked at him and smiled a sardonic smile. She cart wheeled on the stage and made her way onto his platform. She pulled herself onto his lap. The way she felt on top of him was a feeling in which Frollo had no words to describe. The words that he needed did not exist, and the words he did know were too much of understatements.

La Esmeralda smelled wonderful. It was unlike anything he had ever inhaled before. He flared his nostrils, trying to breathe in more of this intoxicating fragrance that was emanating off of her. He leaned into her, becoming dizzy. She smelled of foreign spices and lands. Egypt perhaps…

Frollo heart rate increased as she pulled a scarf out of a hidden pocket in her dress and wrapped it affectionately around his neck.

Was she serious with her actions? Did she really hold any sort of emotion for him as he did? Did she love him as he so suddenly loved her? Frollo wanted to wrap his arms around her and hug her to him with every last bit of energy he had. He wanted to taste her succulent skin…he wanted to do so many things…

La Esmeralda pulled him close to her and puckered her lips. She leaned her head down and brought Frollo a bit closer. When the distance was satisfactory for her, she leaned in and placed a kiss on the top of his long nose.

Frollo was a live-wire. He closed his eyes in elation and memorized the feeling of Esmeralda's rose-kissed lips against his flesh. He memorized the feeling of her body on his lap. It was the best feeling he had ever felt in his entire life.

They would have to run away if they wanted to carry out any sort of relations with each other. Frollo would happily give up everything he owned, every last coin, if it meant a lifetime with this goddess. He would gladly be stripped of his title if it meant a life with La Esmeralda.

And Frollo could picture their life together with so much clarity. In this one moment that Esmeralda kissed him, he saw everything. He saw them together holding hands in a park, then at home lying in bed, giving each other the ultimate pleasure…a few years would pass and they would have three darling children, all exact copies of their mother…they would grow old together, watching their children grow and have families of their own…

Frollo could see it all. And he wanted it more than he wanted anything. So quickly had she become the absolute bane of his subsistence…

Esmeralda only kept her lips on his for a few moments longer. She removed her lips and before Frollo could catch her expression, she slammed his chaperone down in his head and cart wheeled away.

Anger erupted inside of him. So she was not interested in him like he suspected her to be. She was only making a mockery out of him! Insolent gypsy wench! He wrenched the scarf that was still around his neck off of him and watched as the siren smiled smugly at him. She had teased him. She had teased him with the most unholy thoughts. He was no longer clean. He had caused his manhood to experience a feeling that he had vowed when he became an all-powerful judge he would never surrender to. And yet here he was, with a heart still pounding, watching the gypsy Esmeralda dance, still completely in love with her. He was torn between passion and anger. Her defiant attitude was something Frollo found himself attracted to. Her behavior and the way she was not afraid of him made Frollo's heart melt into a pool of desire and need.

His erection was suddenly more evident as La Esmeralda grabbed a spear from the guard, plunged it deep into the stage and twirled her body around it in the most provocative way. Thankfully his stifling robe covered up any evidence that he had lustful feelings for the gypsy.

There were cheers and whistles of approval from the crowd, and Frollo felt more jealous than ever. _They were all allowed to enjoy her. They all could indulge. _

Frollo found himself clutching the purple scarf in his hands harder and harder as he watched the gypsy. His knuckles had turned whiter than usual. He still had blush in his cheeks, a factor that he desperately tried to suppress. He wanted no one to detect his true feeling for La Esmeralda.

Once her song had ended she left the stage. Frollo felt like he could breathe a little easier with her image out of the picture, but her image never left his mind. Every last detail of her was burned onto his mind. Every last movement she had made and every step of those dainty feet of hers replayed over and over again in his head. Why was she the forbidden fruit? Why was she the one who had tempted him on the highest level one could be tempted on? Why? And why was it _him _that she had tempted? Why was _he _feeling what he was feeling? He had seen other gypsy girls dance, and every single one had held some sort of beauty, but he had felt nothing with them. They had all been forgotten the moment they were out of view. And now, they were all ugly next to La Esmeralda.

Esmeralda was branded to his brain. He could not forget her no matter how dreadfully he tried to. Throughout the rest of the festival Frollo could no concentrate on anything. Thoughts of Esmeralda reserved all of his attention. He continued to think of her with the scarf still in his hand.

It was only when someone announced Quasimodo as the King of Fools that he snapped out of his trance.

He gasped and laid his gaze angrily on his disobeying bell ringer.

Quasimodo looked as if he was having the time of his life. His smile was that of true happiness. He thought that this was what acceptance felt like. But little did he know, the horror was yet to come.

He was tied to a rotating wheel where fruit and vegetables were thrown at him. He yelled angrily, but this only aroused the crowd's entertainment further.

Frollo sighed in aggravation. Why could he not just have obeyed?

"Sir, I ask for permission to stop this." Phoebus asked.

"In a moment captain, a lesson needs to be learned here."

Suddenly all the shouting from the crowed had ceased, and Quasimodo had stopped rotating. Frollo directed his attention away from Phoebus and back to the platform.

His heart stopped. It was La Esmeralda! She was back! All of his anger had evaporated in the moment his eyes met her body. He only felt joy that she was there. She had traded her dancing red dress for a white shirt that revealed those gorgeous shoulders of hers, and a purple skirt with golden coin-type things that hung from another piece of fabric on it. Her golden hair piece had been replaced with a thick pink ribbon that held back all of her dazzling dark hair.

"Don't be afraid…" She murmured to Quasimodo. "I'm sorry. This wasn't supposed to happen." She began to wipe his face with her purple cloth.

Frollo stood up and felt his body begin to shake. "You there! Gypsy girl!" He felt wretched about having to act so rudely towards this magnificent creature, but if he wanted to maintain his normal persona, it was necessary. "Get down at once!" Ah! This was no way to win her affection!

She whipped her head around to look at the man standing up and pointing a very long finger at her. "Yes your honor, just as soon as I free this poor creature."

"I forbid it!"

She frowned at him and began to pull her skirt up. Frollo swallowed hard and his breathing became jagged as she revealed her stunning legs. But she was not doing this for any sort of entertainment; she was only retrieving her dagger. She took the dagger and cut the ropes off of Quasimodo. He looked at her with admiration in his eyes.

"How _dare _you defy me!" (Although it was secretly a major turn on for him!)

"You mistreat this poor boy the same way you mistreat my people! You speak of justice yet you are cruel to those most in need of it!" Oh how Frollo loved this gypsy. Oh how he hung on her every word, letting her voice encompass him. He was distracted for a moment, but not long enough for anyone to notice.

"_Silence!" _He bellowed.

"_JUSTICE!" _Frollo's mouth watered and he became tremulous. She was so bloody rebellious! He needed to tame this wild creature…he needed to _tame _her…

"Mark my words gypsy you will pay for this insolence!" He hoped she would perceive the adoration he was trying to restrain, but it did not appear so.

"Then it appears we have crowned the wrong fool. The only fool I see... is you!"And with these words she threw the crown at Frollo's feet. There were gasps from the crowd. There were even some laughs. Esmeralda's _goat _was even mocking him.

"Captain Phoebus, arrest her!" He barked out the command. Arresting her would be the only way he would get her alone. He had to tell her how he felt before these emotions crushed him. It was as if he was Atlas, and the weights of his sentiments were the world. He needed her to accept him. It was the only way he would be saved. Not having her would destroy him!

Phoebus motioned for the guards to move in on La Esmeralda.

Esmeralda was cunning though. She managed to escape the grasp of the guards and injure them without so much as touching them. Clever witch. She jumped up on the stage and disappeared under a large blanket.

She was gone.

Frollo was unexpectedly stricken with sadness. She had been so bemusing and amusing to Frollo at the same time. Her defiance, her getaway… She was the one gypsy who he would tolerate. She was the exception. She was the only one immune to his iron fist. To her, he was completely vulnerable.

This realization made Frollo freeze where he stood. Vulnerable…the word had never been one to describe _him, _rather, his victims. Now, being the subject this adjective was describing…it was a whole different ball game.

He would have La Esmeralda for his own. He would have her…

"Find her Captain Phoebus," he said as he climbed onto his own black stallion. "I wanted her _alive." _He apprehended that her scarf was still wound around his fist, so he quickly tucked it into his robe before anyone could see.

He would have her…he would have her if it killed him.

Frollo then rode away, not so sure exactly where he was headed to, his chaperone's ribbon billowing behind him, and the scarf of La Esmeralda rubbing soothingly against his chest.


End file.
